


Presentation is Not Always Everything

by electrickster



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting, kingdings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5876908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrickster/pseuds/electrickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Presentations are nerve-wracking as is, but when combined with a full bladder, hope for a positive outcome is grim at best.</p><p>Especially when Dr. W.D. Gaster is trying to tell a good portion of the Underground about the Core he just finished building.</p><p>While the king is watching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presentation is Not Always Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/172939) by Sansy and their friend. 



> This was intended to be a surprise for someone but eh. It's what I got when I mixed motivation, stretching-out-the-old-wings, a sprinkle of jealousy, sadness, suppressed memories, all that good stuff. 
> 
> Suppressed memories...that's a big one.
> 
> I was too scared to lose Gaster's dialogue, so I typed it in all caps instead of wingdings. I hope that's all right.
> 
> In any case, someone had already written the plot for this; all I did was add my style and a bit of Kingdings fluff--LORD did I get into that pairing AS I was writing it. So well done, you. You know who you are. XD
> 
> I'm also kind of proud of myself that I didn't use the word "desperate" or "piss" even once. Suck it, tradition.

This was it.

Dr. Gaster climbed onto the stage, brimming with confidence. After years of unrelenting research, calculations, and welding, the Core, his magnum opus, was finally finished, and the entire Underground would have its own power source.

The only trouble was explaining it to them—he was not the best at speaking—but Dr. Gaster was nothing if not prepared. 

Everything, from blueprints to his ideas to what the Core needed in order to function, was in his arms, or in his head. He’d even remembered to keep himself in top physical condition in every way possible. There was no way anything could go wrong.

Head held high and arms full of papers and scrolls, Dr. Gaster made his way to the podium. 

“SPEECH,” he thought, wrestling with the papers and finally selecting a creamy sheet with careful Wingdings handwritten on it.

“GOOD AFTERNOON, FRIENDS, MY NAME IS DR. W.D. GASTER,” Dr. Gaster began. The audience blinked with recognition and greeting. So far, so good. 

There was just one problem, but it would be over right after the presentation. Dr. Gaster took a deep breath and willed his lower abdomen to cease its knocking. Perfect.

“I’M HERE TO TALK TO YOU TODAY ABOUT THE CORE, WHICH WAS FUNDED FULLY BY OUR BELOVED KING ASGORE,” he gestured to the king, who was at a panel table next to the podium, alone save for a yellow monster. Perhaps she was the king’s apprentice.

Polite applause spread throughout the auditorium, and the king smiled, waving amicably. He then nodded at Dr. Gaster to begin his presentation.

“THE CORE WILL BE IMPLEMENTED SHORTLY, AND IS FUELED BY THE DECEPTIVELY SIMPLE PROCESS OF BREAKING MATTER AT ITS OWN CORE—“ Here Dr. Gaster paused, his face twisting into mock shock. “HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU THAT THE KING IS NOT THE BEST WITH NAMING THINGS?”

Laughter from the audience.

Dr. Gaster smiled, feeling tremors of courage in his bones. Such a reaction could only mean good things for the future, and especially would help curry favor with not only the king, but monsterkind--it would only be fair, after how long he had worked to contribute something of extreme use to the Underground. The problem from earlier lingered, returning to knock once more. Dr. Gaster swallowed, chalked it up to nervousness, and pulled out a large notepad with diagrams on it. There was no time for a break, not when he was at the top of his game.

Very thoroughly, and in terms he'd hoped the lay monster would understand, Dr. Gaster went on to explain how much heat the Core generated, why it was a rare and difficult source of power to produce, and, especially, how safe it was to go near it. 

"...UNLIKE HUMANS, THIS SORT OF POWER DOES _NOT_ HARM MONSTERS. WHY, ONE COULD FALL IN IT AND STILL STAND A CHANCE FOR A GOOD HALF-HOUR BEFORE TURNING TO DUST ALTOGETHER!" Dr. Gaster let out a nervous little laugh, noticing just how uncomfortable the audience got at this remark. Of course. He was always saying the wrong thing.

At this, Dr. Gaster's bladder complained again, beginning to twist in its struggle. The Royal Scientist shifted uncomfortably, but then cleared his throat. The best idea would be to move on quickly before the audience turned against him altogether. He could take care of that other nagging problem later.

But it continued pushing--pushing down to relieve itself, pushing itself to the front of Dr. Gaster's mind. He gulped and shifted a little bit more, praying no one would notice. There was still a good portion of the presentation to go, and his little 'problem' was almost not-little anymore. In any case, he couldn't distract himself from it with work.

But the presentation still had to be done.

Dr. Gaster cleared his throat, peeling down another sheet of paper to display an image of the Core and a large chunk of ice right beside it. “AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS EXACTLY WHY IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THE CORE BE HYDRATED,” Dr. Gaster drawled, patting the diagram for emphasis. Crap. Why the topic of hydration _now_?!

“WHAT I HIGHLY SUGGEST IS THAT SNOWDIN TRANSPORTS ITS ICE ALONG THE RIVER INTO HOTLAND IN ORDER TO KEEP IT COOL. THE CORE IS A DANGEROUS—“ Dr. Gaster faltered, though no one could see exactly why. “SOURCE OF POWER AND MUST BE MAINTAINED AT ALL—TIMES—AND CAN OVERHEAT EASILY, THEREFORE, HYDRATION IS K-KEY…”

The podium was mercifully opaque, ensuring that not a single member of the audience noticed Dr. Gaster crossing his legs.

King Asgore, however, was not a member of the audience. 

Dr. Gaster glanced at him, and he and his panel-mate were both eyeing him...suspiciously? Oh dear.

Dr. Gaster took a deep breath he probably didn’t need and clenched his teeth and thighs. “KEY TO KEEPING IT ‘COOL’, AS YOU YOUNG FOLKS SAY.” His voice shook, which garnered even less of an amused reaction from the audience than he would have normally had. Gaster swallowed. So much for regaining the audience's approval.

He, like the Core, always stayed hydrated, but unlike the Core, he had limits. Dr. Gaster shuffled some papers around to try and stall for time, quivering slightly. He had to swallow back a loud whimper--heaven knew how sensitive that microphone was.

Just before the presentation, Dr. Gaster had made perfectly sure to drink more than enough in order to avoid any voice cracks--such a slip-up would be very unbecoming of the king's Royal Scientist.

But, he realized as dread prickled through him and his bladder kicked once more, such decisions came with a cost. 

Sweat poured down his face, his chest, his back as he trembled, forgoing a fragment of the pretense that all was well and stuffing one hand between his legs. There. He could keep presenting, although perhaps he'd sacrificed the better part of his composure.

Dr. Gaster swallowed and struggled to at least _touch_ on all of the topics he'd planned, pulling sheets of paper off the stack here and there and even letting several fall to the floor.

And then he heard them: whispers. Disorganized, nervous, pitiful--"IF ONLY THEY KNEW," Dr. Gaster thought bitterly, squeezing his front harder in an effort to hold back the rapidly growing flood. Success--he kept going, his voice traveling to all sorts of pitches.

A second scarcely passed through the presentation without Dr. Gaster feeling the slow, thudding pain building upon itself with time like waves on the seashore.

Dr. Gaster shook his head. Thinking about the sea, himself, Asgore, the entire audience watching, and the FREAKING TOPIC HE WAS PRESENTING only served to heighten his need. Especially that look of concern the king kept giving him _oh GOD HE NOTICED--_

His magical bladder lurched, fighting to empty itself against the force that held it back. "JUST A LITTLE LONGER," he thought to himself, choking down another despondent whimper. 

"IN CONC-CONCLUSION," Dr. Gaster's voice hitched as his presentation was finally, finally drawing to a close. "THE CORE, WHILST ALL-P-POWERFUL AND...AND..."

A sudden spasm forced a tiny spurt into his thankfully dark pants, but Dr. Gaster took no solace in this and gasped in alarm. "I--I CAN'T..." he squeaked, collapsing to his knees.

Seeing this, Asgore swiftly stepped up to the podium. "I believe this meeting has been adjourned," he boomed in a tone that nobody dared question. To emphasize his point, he slammed the butt of his spear on the ground. Dr. Gaster winced as the tremors crawled their way up to his bladder, and he felt himself leak a little more. 

"STOP..." Dr. Gaster whispered, feeling a swell of disappointment wash over him as he kept trying to stop the flow, going so far as to use both hands, composure be damned.

All the same, the audience and the king's apprentice departed, swiftly and without a hint of curiosity.

"Are you all right?" The king knelt beside Dr. Gaster and peered at him. Dr. Gaster nodded shakily, concealing the small, glistening grey patch with his lab coat. 

"AHH--AH--Y-YES, YOUR MAJESTY, I JUST N-NEED A QUICK--BREAK," Dr. Gaster managed to sputter, his face boiling as it turned a deep plum. Of all the people he would have picked to accompany him in this situation, the king would have been the last one.

Dr. Gaster forced his legs to stand, shaky as they were. His bladder protested and squeezed itself, dyeing a tiny patch of the lab coat yellow. Dr. Gaster panted and thrust one foot forward--there was no way he would embarrass himself in front of King Asgore, that was for certain. But the ache for release, the pain, the tightness, the fullness, it was all so unBEARABLE--

"Listen," Asgore breathed, so gentle was his voice. Dr. Gaster didn't even have the guts to turn to acknowledge him. "I don't think you can make it."

Gaster stopped breathing.

"Here," the king raced at top speed to a corner of the stage, where there lay a plastic wastebasket, innocent in its insignificance. Gaster watched him, trembling and sweating with the increasingly impossible effort to keep the veritable ocean inside of him. Almost as quickly as he noticed the wastebasket, Asgore thundered back to him, the plastic bucket in tow. Gaster pressed his hands in harder. The vibrations once again made a beeline up his legs to his bladder, and he very nearly let go right there had it not been for the look of pure determination on the king's face.

"Here," Asgore repeated, placing the wastebasket next to him. "Don't worry about making a mess, I'll clean everything up, I'll look away, you have nothing to worry about, my good man." True to his word, the king turned his back on the doctor.

Ordinarily, Gaster would have told the giver of such instructions to buzz off, but he was in no position to do that to anyone, much less King Asgore. 

Gaster fumbled with his pants, his thighs trembling as his bladder yowled and spasmed once more, leaking, yet leaking. His fingers scrambled to pull open the button without breaking it, and just barely undid it. Now for the zipper—which flattened itself squarely against his bladder—refused to budge, no matter how Gaster tugged and yanked—

Gaster let out a raunchy moan as relief flooded him and the dam burst within him with the force of an agitated Tsunderplane. It tingled in one smooth motion from his head to his toes, gripping him in a perverse satisfaction. All he could do was shake violently, numb from simultaneous horror and pleasure, frozen except for watching as the dark stain glistened, then rapidly grew down his legs, even up his behind oh God how was that even possible?! Gaster whimpered and clasped his face in despair, unable to watch as his lab coat, his shoes, his socks, everything became soaked. Nothing was spared—nothing, that is, except for the wastebasket which Asgore had so kindly given him.

Asgore turned around and gasped. 

Having several degrees in all sorts of scientific fields, Dr. Gaster knew how to handle most problems. 

He analyzed the situation in a practiced split-second: here he was, about to show the world what he'd done and hopefully garner recognition from everyone, and he'd gone and wet himself, not just on the floor, but OUTSIDE OF the wastebasket, _through_ his pants, in front of the KING of all MONSTERS--

There was only one logical thing he could think of to do in his position.

Gaster crumpled into a messy heap and bawled.

It was all too much. His future, his credibility, and his dignity, gone in the span of a few hours. Gaster made no effort to hide the animal noises from his throat as tears streamed down his face.

Dignity be damned.

“Doctor…” Asgore approached him.

"YOUR HIGHNESS, I'M SO SORRY--I COULDN'T--" Gaster burst into fresh sobs, hiding his face and kneeling to make himself as small as possible.

“Don’t you worry, it happens.” Asgore made an effort to conceal his discomfort, kneeling beside Gaster.

“IT DOESN’T HELP THAT IT HAPPENS WHEN I GET REALLY NERVOUS…” Gaster choked between sobs, when he could finally get enough breath to speak.

"And you-- you can't help that, can you?" Asgore asked quietly. Gaster shook his head, not looking at the king.

"Shh…Gaster."

Gaster looked up at hearing his name. A total mess, his face and clothes, but his eyes shone with wonder at the mercy in the king’s words.

“Don’t cry.” Asgore held up a furry hand and brushed it across Gaster’s moist cheeks.

Gaster didn't even have time to wonder if it was a command or request before the king undid his cape and thrust it around Gaster's shoulders. This startled the latter and he leaped up, protesting. "YOUR MAJESTY, I CAN'T; I'LL GET IT DIRTY!" he cried. 

Asgore chuckled and dismissively swatted a paw. "Oh, it can be washed. Besides, I think you need it more than I do." He placed a burly paw on Gaster's shoulder, making the scientist buckle under its weight. "Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Gaster stood up, feeling the protective warmth of the king's body heat in the cape. "TH- THANK YOU," he sniffled, unconsciously slumping his head into Asgore’s chest as the two walked off the stage.

Gaster tried to think, oh, he tried, what with all of the thoughts swimming around his head—how was his career not destroyed, why was the king being so nice to him, how on earth was the king’s cape so freaking WARM—

They walked together in silence, but somehow, Gaster knew everything was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Interestingly enough, I listened to Disbelief/Interstellar Retribution (cause that might be what it really is?) as well as a friend singing Love Me Tender while writing this. 
> 
> Originally, the beginning was going to be at the point Gaster started talking about hydration, but I figured the stakes weren't nearly high enough. So I bumped up the ante.


End file.
